“The bottom tier features ube chiffon cake with coconut mousse—the flavors of my childhood, of family gatherings and celebrations. Ube is a purple yam native to the Philippines, with an earthy sweetness that pairs perfectly with the lightness of the coconut.”
I move to the middle tier. “These are calamansi honey tarts. Calamansi is a citrus fruit similar to a lime but with distinct floral notes. It represents the unexpected discoveries we make when we venture beyond what’s familiar—bright, surprising, sometimes challenging, but always worth experiencing.”
Finally, I gesture to the top. “And here, the mango toffee archipelago. The Philippines is an archipelago—a collection of islands. These pieces represent both where I come from and where I’ve arrived—transformed by heat and time into something new, but still carrying the essence of home.”
I step back, trying to gauge their reactions. Chef Lumière’s glow pulses with gentle blues and purples—a good sign, if the rumors about Fae emotions are true. Maxwell Thornwood is nodding slowly, thoughtfully. The Sphinx’s face remains impassive, but her tail has stopped twitching.
“May we taste?” Chef Lumière asks.
My heart skips. “Of course.”
I serve each judge a plate with small portions of each dessert, arranged to mirror the display. My hands don’t shake, which feels like its own small victory.
They taste in silence. Excruciating, nerve-shredding silence.
I watch their faces, trying to interpret every subtle shift of expression. Chef Lumière’s glow brightens with each bite, colors shifting through the spectrum. Maxwell Thornwood closes his eyes, focusing entirely on the flavors. The Sphinx’s whiskers twitch forward—a sign of interest, I hope.
Finally, Chef Lumière sets down her fork. “The ube cake is remarkable—light yet substantial, with a complexity that unfolds as you eat. The coconut mousse is perfectly balanced, not too sweet.”
Maxwell nods. “The calamansi tarts are a revelation. The acidity is beautifully tempered by the honey, and the pastry has just the right amount of buttery richness.”
The Sphinx takes her time, considering. “The mango toffee is particularly interesting. The transformation of the fruit into something with such depth and character. It speaks to your theme effectively.”
I exhale slowly, relief washing through me like a tide. They like it. They actually like it.
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. “The journey these flavors represent is deeply personal to me.”
“That comes through clearly,” Chef Lumière says, her glow pulsing warmly. “In every bite, we taste not just ingredients, but memory. Heritage. Longing.” She inclines her head slightly. “Well done, Ms. Reyes.”
The judges move on to the next booth, but I remain rooted to the spot, their words echoing in my ears.
Memory. Heritage. Longing.
They got it. They actually got what I was trying to say.
I turn to find Thorne standing closer now, his expression softened around the edges.
“Told you,” he says simply.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and real. “Yes, you did.”
We stand there together, watching as the judges move through the exhibition hall, tasting and evaluating. I catch Gabriel staring daggers at me from across the room. I smile and wave, enjoying the way his face contorts before he quickly smooths it into indifference.
“What happens now?” Thorne asks, nodding toward the judges.
“Now we wait,” I say. “They’ll announce the finalists this afternoon. Then those selected will compete in a final round tomorrow for the grand prize.”
The waiting should feel excruciating. Hours ago, it would have. But now, standing beside my display, beside Thorne, I feel something I haven’t felt since this competition began.
Peace.
Because win or lose, I’ve already proven what I needed to prove—to Gabriel, to the judges, but most importantly, to myself.
I belong here.
And no one can take that away from me.
CHAPTER 14
